


Risico

by BoredPsychopath_JC



Series: Two cats to feed [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), SPECTRE (2015)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Lots of headcanons thrown in, M/M, One Shot, bits of crack and humour, bonus reference to another spy drama for the sake of feels, unusual cat breed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredPsychopath_JC/pseuds/BoredPsychopath_JC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Risico<br/><i>Dutch [Noun] Risk</i><br/><i>Italian [Verb, present tense indicative first person singular form] To risk</i></p><p>Q is at Q-Branch when Bond breaks into his flat. There're risks in the presence of unusual felines. Q's risk assessment programme is put to the test.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risico

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chauagnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chauagnes/gifts).



> I can’t resist the cats! As writing practice to get pass the blocks, this is the first independent one-shot in a new series featuring different cat breeds. It has nothing to do with Fleming canon, despite what the title suggests ;) 
> 
> This is a very silly "add oil" gift for Agnes- hope you like it despite the imperfections :D (I'll go back to write that Soulmate AU WIP soon! Promise!) Also shoutout to all those who liked the draft versions of this work and cheerleading, esp. V. xx

“007.” Q adjusts his glasses with a frown. “I’m not surprised if skipping Medical will eventually cost your life.”

“It just needs few stitches, Q. Stop being overdramatic." 

Q’s just witnessed a rare evening, where Bond miraculously completed the mission without blowing up the State Opera House in Vienna. So he remains at office, trying to push his luck on another very challenging task. So far the progress is unexpectedly satisfactory. He's beat MI5 and GCHQ slightly before midnight on an unofficial yet authorised acquisition- M was smugly pleased- and it’s too delicate to leave the prize unencrypted. Codes have been steadily flowing from his fingertips.

Until a security breach alert popped up on his screen.

Instead of cyberattack, it was caused by the said agent picking his door locks singlehandedly. CCTV catches the agent's other hand touching his right ear, as if to state a point.

"And in fact you're reaching me through the Q-Branch earpiece. Thought I could use some rewards. I booked an earlier flight and took a cab from Heathrow."

“Bringing back your equipments is your duty, Bond. And please tell me you still have the opera glass intact. That prototype costs much more than your annual pay.” Q attempts an air of professional nonchalance, before adding with a sigh, "Impatience won't get you any where, agent."

But it matters when his agent’s finally back, more or less in one piece. The sheer alertness and professionalism can be put to rest for now. He switches off the recording device, a small smile threatening to show.

"Don't be so cold. You deserve some rest like I do. And if you're so concerned about the equipments, why not meet me here to check my triggers?”

Having an headset on means Q’s truly the only one listening to that annoying voice, which is now laced with mock hurt. But no, other than the honest affection, he's not dwelling on the bad innuendos. He's still at work, thank you very much.  _You should have picked a better time to break into my flat._ A chuckle inevitably escapes him as he pictures himself chiding the only welcome intruder at his own doorstep, arms akimbo. 

Yet that's when Q reminds himself- there are reasons why Bond hasn't been invited to his place yet. He's not living alone after all.

Nervousness starts to curl in his complaining stomach. He regrets turning down the night snacks brought by his staff earlier.

"Bond." Unease creeps in his tone. "If you aren't too drunk to move, come to Q Branch. I'll order takeaway." 

"Why don't you call it a night? I'll fix us something better than food. You'll _love_ it." 

It's distracting that Bond's humming softly at the background. The agent is clearly determined to complete this personal mission, whatever it is. Q is certain that such an encounter will eventually take place, for they've got to this point after all the ups and downs. Still, he can't help worrying how his new lover will be judged by the other two most important individuals in his life. These insufferable three share more similarities than he wants to admit. They’re all stubborn, rebellious, and possessive. Ridiculously gorgeous, of course.

Deadly too, if they want to. 

 _But is this a right time?_   There’re always risks bringing this trio together.  God forbid if there'll be blood.That may still happen even when Q trusts Bond not harming the pair out of self-defence. How can he explain the claw scratches and feline teeth marks showing up from the medical reports? Not that he can't tamper with the records but perhaps a worse scenario awaits. Maybe something worse than physical injuries- Bond hasn't made his opinions on cats known yet. 

“Are you hiding someone? I refuse to believe you've found someone better in ten days." As if to prove a point, the owner of the damned voice pauses his hands over the last password lock, flashing the most flamboyant smirk at the CCTV camera above.

 _What have I done to deserve these three?_ Q rolls his eyes with a sigh, which sounds fond rather than tense irritation even to his own ears. His mental risk assessments were disrupted completely.

Shame he’s started working on the codes for upgrading that curious lie detector at hand. He has to finish it for security reasons. Now he's left with the only choice of remotely watching the action unfold. Anxiety bubbles up as he can no longer persuade himself it's like running another mission. He stands up abruptly, fiddling with the headset, well aware that his blood sugar level is too low for drama.  _Let be_ , his messy mind comes up with an unhelpful quote. 

“Don't be ridiculous. It's my cats. They're a bit wild at this hour. The automatic feeder is set at 2 hours later. I won't say that's excellent post-mission company.”

“I’ve stopped the bleeding. Unless they’re cheetahs, it'll be fine. Remember I can be a charmer to all felines alike, including—”

“DON’T you dare—”

 _To speak that pet name here,_  Q supplies mentally, his mouth going dry. He reaches for his mug as a reflex. The tea’s turned cold and tastes like shit. He curses under his breath.

“I’ll be waiting for you on your couch. Or in bed,” the agent unhelpfully purrs. “With a mug of steaming tea. Na—”

“Seriously, James, my cats aren't usual kittens and they can be difficult.” Q won’t go down without a word of protest, yet he’s swiftly entered the instructions overriding the door lock electrocution system. 

“You're _my_ quartermaster and you should know how much I _love_  challenges.“ 

Resigned, Q pulls up a simple software interface with a huff to still himself. He picks  ** _RISK ASSESSMENT FOR STRANGER_** from the setting, inputing the audio channels. Half of the screen is instantly filled with charts showing vital signs and response predictions. The programme is working without a glitch and he’s now torn between getting some hot water or remaining at his desk to watch the possible fallout sans tea. 

“Q, it may be a good idea to review your flat’s security.”

 _Fine, no time for tea then_ , he sighs, bracing for the worst. Thankfully, no one's going to witness the potential breakdown of MI6’s youngest quartermaster over mere domestics. He weakly tries a comeback.

“I’ve remotely stopped my door knocking you out and I hope your pride is unhurt too. You can leave, um, if you feel necessary. I still have an hour to go here.”

He ignores Bond’s playful snort, saving work-related coding for later. Better wait till he isn’t that distracted. _It won’t take long to know._ Meows come through his earphone. His fur babies are rarely that vocal but the signs aren't alarming. He has to focus at Bond’s channel so he mute other audio feeds, inputting them to the software for inspection. 

 ** _Curiosity detected_** flashes on screen. But Q has seen how things can go downhill in an eye blink. They're a bit more than ordinary domesticated kittens.

Bond’s breathing pattern changes slightly, enough for Q to pick up the tension and extra alertness. He regrets the complete absence of surveillance inside his home. _So they’ve met finally._ He taps his fingers impatiently on the desk, ignoring how far his glasses has slid down. Bond remains silent.

It’s definitely worse than the most vexing missions. 

“Enchanted,” Bond finally whispered under his breath. “You have two wild cats right here in Islington. Always the one with surprises.”

Q is too occupied with the fluctuating graphs and numbers to respond immediately. The data still looks promising. He clears his throat, putting on the calmest voice he can manage.

“These are F2 savannah cats, perfectly legal. Usually friendly,” he states in one breath, as if listing important information during missions. He can't help it. “Part of the former family legacy. Cat breeders.”

“Oh,” Bond’s reply is soft. “They’re not hissing. I take it as a good sign.“ Q hates it when he has too little to work out Bond’s thoughts between the lines. Desperation starts to claim him when Bond speaks again in a slightly lighter tone.

“I'll restrain my killer instinct. They’re yours after all. God knows what you'll do to me if I hurt these blond beauties out of self-defence.”

The graphical charts on the screen fluctuate suddenly. Despite Bond's attempt to joke, Q hates to hear how tense he sounds. “James, my boys—” 

“Nice collars.” Q stops mid-sentence as he hears an honest announcement. It's more likely Bond's addressing the speckled pair.

Who’d imagine a Double-O testing the water like this? 

The fluctuation stops again. The encounter has yet turned into disaster. Q relaxes a bit, still can’t tell whether he can laugh a bit, if that comment is followed by a slightly awkward introduction:  _The name’s Bond. James Bond._

“Ever the charmer,” Q masks his nervousness better this time.

The algorithm for feline hostility detection suggests that Bond’s safe from the claws or teeth at the moment. When Q was informed of the said fascinating lie detector weeks ago, he was inspired and created this side project. Unexpectedly tested for the first time in a potentially dangerous confrontation, he can only pray it works with surgical accuracy as with his other creations. There’re always extra risks and accidents when Bond's involved.

After repeated analyses, the programme generates a report:  ** _< 7% RISK OF ATTACK: STRANGER SAFE._**  That's all Q needs. He exhales, giving up concealing his slight relief.

They’ve all been lucky.

"Breathe, my dear quartermaster. It's almost endearing to hear how worried you can be over the comms."

“Shut it, _007_. What a shame they’re not interested in tearing your apart for now. They don’t even hate you. How disappointing.” 

The last remark is meant for _**STRANGER** , _because the picky kids didn’t veto. But Bond doesn't need to know that for the time being.

“How do you know?” It’s pure curiosity- there’s not a single ounce of doubt.

That’s exactly how they work, right from the very beginning when all things were solely professional. Even when Bond had once walked away, returned, and promised to stay around permanently. It's simple but vital.  _Trust_. 

“Smart blood system isn’t just for agents.” Q hopes he doesn’t give away his satisfaction too much. “Cats are actually easier to predict than a certain reckless agent.”

Bond’s approval is evident amid his amused chuckle. Q likes it whenever he impresses the older man. If he has to pinpoint the exact moment, it's when he heard _“Youth is no guarantee for innovation”_ years ago in the deserted National Gallery one early morning. He rolls his eyes again at the warmth blooming in his chest.

Now, there they are.

“Cat treats are in the cupboard. I’ve added your fingerprint to the lock. Beware they’re very athletic.” He pauses to look at the sound wave patterns. “Please don’t spoil them too much. Hadrian is already purring non-stop. See you all under half an hour.”

“Honestly I didn’t expect I’d passed the test this soon.” Bond sounds genuinely content.

“Wait till you bath them,” Q warns, still grinning. He switches back on the other two audio channels, in time to catch Antinous’ chirps of excitement.

"Don't underestimate a Double-oh. The training is sufficient for handling frightened cats."

"You're very much mistaken. You can't imagine how much they love playing in the bath. Those two."

Q reaches for his mug again. The liquid inside looks pathetic. He puts it down with a frown, yet his irritation vanishes amid the purrs and noises from rapid devouring of dry food.

He's replaying the events in his mind when the voice interrupts again.

"Q, tell me, do you speak of me in the same doting tone?" 

"They never break my equipments. And they can't tell you if I did." 

He may or may not berate himself later for having just given away something embarrassing. He shakes his head fondly at a bit at the light laughter from the other side. 

"Aren't these collars equipped with voice-recorder? I may try to take them off while I offer them distractions."

"For the love of God, don't ever think giving them my opera glass!" There he laughs again at his own words.

"Savannah cats are smart. I'll do what I must to strengthen their good opinion."

"You're incorrigible. But truly, I didn't expect you'd look up the breed with your phone just now."

"I want to know them better so you have less a reason to get rid of me. I'd say they do like me."

 _Who doesn't?_  He watches the figure drop to **_2%_** with a warm smile.

They're all lucky individuals tonight, safe and sound, unlike the lie detector creator who's still lying unconscious at the Medical for more than a year. It's conventional for the MI6 quartermaster to multitask and keep tabs on all the things going on anytime. The codes await.

But perhaps not now. They deserve a normal moment in this cruel world.

Bond is cooing at his precious pair. If Q closes his eyes, he can construct the images well in his head. 

It feels so right and he feels unusually sentimental. The lack of tea is of course to blame.

“Welcome home, James.”

**Author's Note:**

> LOOK HOW LOVELY F2 SAVANNAH CATS ARE! [[x](http://savannahcatprice.com/choosing-your-savannah-cat/hp-savannahs-f2-male-savannah-julie-porter)] [[x](http://www.wildtafari.com/Reviews.html)]
> 
> There’re no cameras on Q’s high-tech cat collars yet- the cats manage to whack them every bloody time. ~~That's why the three get along well.~~  
> 
> Thanks for reading this ridiculous work. Kudos and comments make my day :D
> 
> P.S. The lie detector Q has acquired was developed by an ill-fated former MI6 member, officially listed "missing". The name’s Alistair Turner. *evil laughter*


End file.
